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 For my 28th Birthday...  I received a litany of things. Whether we could call these things "gifts" is subjective. I do not know whether to think them as such, or whether they are unwelcomed cracks in the wall I've tried oh so hard to buttress.  I received doubt; doubt from those once thought to be friends and allies. Those who once welcomed me with open arms into this, a new stage of my life. Those who relished in my good graces and humbleness, and thought it a welcome change from murkier grounds and stranger tides. Those who I saw as confidants, associated, and those I could talk and turn to. This doubt was the gift that kept giving, for it shone a light upon that cracked wall to bestow upon me revelations.  A revelation is scarcely good , right? We live our lives, chaining revelation after revelation, but we often separate these into neat bins. On the good end, we have discovery . These are revelations that benefit us; things that we can learn from and use to bett...
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This Moment in Time

In this one of many possible lives, we are oft-convinced there is something out there for us considerably better than the present. It is often helpful, however, to step aside and clasp our hands together, in appreciation of the moment itself.  I finally have a bachelor's degree.  Given the theme of this blog, you might think it's in something a bit... rustic . English, maybe? Possibly Agriculture? Biology? Surely, something related to nature! Admirable guesses, but you'd be mistaken. In reality, I am versed not in any arboreal-related field, but in the ways of the trees in cyberspace. I have a Bachelor's of Science in computer science.  It's not a bed of roses. I had to work a lot harder than I had anticipated. My first year was interrupted by the COVID pandemic, and I fear my mind (and work ethic) never truly recovered from those days of alienation and shriveling motivation. I nearly quit during my first semester after shedding tears in the library bathroom after f...
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Emergence

 At the edge of eternity, the foliage around you fades. Like knives, the sun's rays take a stab at your corneas, relishing in the opportunity to find you isolated in your newly-nude surroundings. You adjust in time, your hand a makeshift visor over your warming forehead. With nary a nudge nor noise, you drink it all in: the clearing of the wood. In this life, we've but a precious few moments where we can confidently say, with feet firmly planted, "I was transformed". The unfortunate curse of this existence is that we're quite certain of our own adaptability--of that personal phenomenon of emerging from the chrysalis. In reality, we are stubborn things. All too often we awaken to find ourselves handcuffed to the table by the toils of our past.  And why not?  The past is familiar. The past is what you can look back at and laugh, shrugging it off and placing it aside like a weary jacket in May. The past is an accolade, the reassurance that, if you've done it befo...
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